Fight or Flight
by ll301
Summary: He saved Eddie's life, but Jamie still has to take responsibility for his actions. Missing scenes from season 5 episode 5, Loose Lips.
1. Chapter 1

He lets the screen door slam behind him instead of easing it shut like he usually does. It's a little after ten, but he's sure no one's sleeping. The old men of the house like to stay up late as it is, and his father especially tends to have this preternatural sense for when one of his kids will show up at the door in need of counsel.

Not that it would take a psychic to tell you that Jamie's ill at ease tonight, which is why his car isn't the only guest in the driveway at this odd hour. He'd been a little out of it at the hospital (ironic, as he wasn't the one with the head injury), but he'd been present enough to notice Danny on the phone in the corner, tone uncharacteristically hushed as he passed a condensed account of the day's events to Erin and Grandpa, who between the two of them had undoubtedly passed it along to everyone else. And of course his father knew (as the PC, he knew everything) and had stopped in to make a brief, somber visit to the hospital room while Jamie was still out giving a statement. Their paths hadn't crossed, but Jamie's seen enough of those visits to know almost exactly how it probably went down.

Now, he's counting on the fact that his father's removed the commissioner's hat as much as he ever does. Which often doesn't feel like enough, but it's what he's getting tonight. And he's hopeful that Erin and Danny and Gramps, plus scotch, most likely, will balance out some of the rule-abiding energy in the house.

He knows they heard his entrance, but to their credit no one comes in to meet him as he lingers in the kitchen. He figures he's been through enough angst episodes around them that they know how to act, and they're respecting that, especially tonight. But he can only put off the inevitable for so long (plus, if he'd wanted to drink alone, he could have stayed home), so he finally rounds the bend to the study. Sure enough, his siblings are perched on the couch with glasses of whiskey, and his father and grandfather occupy their customary armchairs. They haven't noticed his entrance yet and they're talking quietly among themselves, and he's momentarily filled with an unexpected rush of affection for them. He didn't call or ask them to be here, yet here they are, waiting up away from their families on a weeknight, on the off chance that he might need to talk. Most people don't have this, and he's suddenly profoundly grateful.

He must have breathed too loud or thought too hard while he was feeling that, because suddenly they all go quiet and four heads swivel towards him. His grandfather breaks the silence. "Want a drink?"

* * *

He's on his second generous tumbler of scotch by now, and he's feeling it. His sister's feeling hers too, if her too-loud laughter and flushed cheeks are any indication. His brother's been nursing the same drink since he got here and hasn't touched it more than once, which makes Jamie suspicious even in his alcohol-induced haze. He suspects that Danny's performing some sort of vigil here right now, feeling duty-bound to keep Jamie's head on straight as the one who witnessed the incident.

Till now, they've kept conversation topics light (assuming the Jets' current season could be described as such) and Jamie's mostly stayed quiet. Now, though, as if by some unspoken signal, the room changes. Erin's grin subsides, and his siblings both embark on that always-fruitless quest of Pretending Not to Stare. His grandfather, again, speaks. "Jamie."

Jamie looks up, forcing a half-smile. "Yeah?"

Henry's eyes are concerned. "How are you, son?"

Jamie takes a sharp inhale and leans back in his chair. "Not too bad, considering."

"Considering?"

He snorts. "Well, it could've been worse."

"That's for damn sure," Danny interjects from his spot in the corner.

Jamie furrows his brow. "You got something to say?"

Frank's eyes are on them, looking strangely like when they were little and arguing in the backseat and he'd stare at them in the rearview mirror to make sure they didn't escalate. Danny shakes his head and sighs. "You hit Price."

"Yeah, so did you." Jamie's not sure why he's testy, except that _of course_ he knows why he's testy. He's just not sure why it's coming through right now.

Danny's shaking his head again and Jamie suppresses an urge to smack the glass from his hand, in marked contrast from his weird rush of love an hour before. "Exactly. I'd already hit him. So why did you?"

Jamie shakes his head, holding his hands out questioningly. "I was already coming at him. I didn't have time to stop. Besides, I didn't want him to drive away from the other direction."

"Seems to me you didn't have to crash into him to do that."

Jamie shakes his head. "What do you want me to say, Danny? The bosses cleared me. When the hell did you become the rule junkie?"

Erin's sitting poised forward on the couch, her eyes darting between them like she's watching a tennis match. Their grandfather sits on the sidelines concerned, but their father's face is impassive. He knows where this is going, and for some inexplicable reason he's not stopping it.

Danny draws in a breath before speaking in a more controlled tone than they're used to – like he's talking to an EDP or something, which Jamie doesn't appreciate. "I'm not trying to accuse you of anything. Just – "

"Sure sounds that way."

Danny closes his eyes before continuing. "Just let me finish. You were pissed, I get it. God knows I've been there myself. But that's not you, kid. You were rash, and you made the situation more dangerous for Janko than it had to be."

Jamie's eyes are steely. "You saying I hurt her?"

Danny's voice is suddenly pained. "God, no, kid. That bastard hurt her, you saved her life. But you weren't _you_ out there in that car. You got out and did what you had to do, but for a second there you were – I don't know. You were just acting on instinct. And that's dangerous on the job. So I'm saying" –here his voice regains a bit of its usual snark – "I'm saying, you might want to think about _why_ you're doing that, instead of just biting my head off."

At this, Erin leans forward as though she's about to speak. Jamie shoots her a look of death that's lost on neither patriarch.

Frank finally speaks. "Erin, Danny. Maybe we should call it a night." He exchanges an inscrutable look with his oldest son before continuing. "You good to drive your sister home?"

Erin's protest comes a bit too loudly. "No, I'm fine!" Danny takes her arm and steers her towards the front door, ignoring her. Neither says good night; some part of Jamie appreciates that.

It's just him and the two commissioners, now. He's spent countless evenings drinking and playing cards with the two of them over his last few single years, but now he feels like a child about to be scolded. Frank speaks up again, and his tone, of course, is even. "How's Officer Janko doing?"

"You saw her, didn't you?" Jamie's attitude is softened by a warning look from his father that, even at thirty-four, still packs a punch. "She'll be all right. They're just monitoring her tonight, then she gets out tomorrow morning." He neglects to mention that he'll be the one taking her home, but he's sure the two men recognize that.

Henry pipes up from where he's been silent. "And who's taking care of her then?"

"Taking care of her?"

His grandfather nods. "While she's on leave."

Jamie purses his lips. "Janko's pretty independent, Pops. I'm not sure she'll want much help."

Henry steamrolls on. "You'll help her out, right? As her partner?"

Jamie puffs out a breath and shakes his head. "Can we just – God. If you have something to say, and Dad, this goes for you too, if you have something to say, just say it. It's been a long day, and I can't do the bullshit mind games right now." He swallows the dregs of his glass, feeling dimly liberated but mostly just frustrated.

Frank sighs. "You just want to hear it. No sugarcoating."

"No sugarcoating."

"We're concerned - _I'm_ concerned that your relationship with your partner is bypassing professional parameters, and that that's impairing your judgement."

For all he's been praying for no-BS, Jamie wasn't fully prepared for this. He can feel himself growing defensive, though he doesn't entirely want to. "She's my _partner_ , Dad. It's my job to have her back. Isn't that enough?"

"I don't think that's all."

Jamie's at a loss. He knows Danny and Baez saw everything earlier at the scene, but he really doesn't think that his brother would screw with him like that. And Erin knows, of course, but she'd never. Right?

"Where are you getting this?"

"Son, you're a rational cop."

 _That's not an answer._

"You're a rational cop, and you did something irrational today."

"I've done irrational things before." It's a ridiculous counter and he knows it, but it's true.

Frank doesn't crack a smile. "You were angry, and you escalated the situation unnecessarily." Jamie tenses up. "You and Detective Reagan may have saved your partner's life, but you also created the potential for more severe injury to Officer Janko and the perp."

Frank's not using first names, so this has clearly just gotten more serious. "Okay, but Janko's alive, and not getting tortured in that psychopath's garage or lying dead in a ditch somewhere. So I'm not gonna apologize for making that happen." _And screw the perp_ , he's thinking. _He's lucky to have gotten out of there without any bullet holes in him._

Some of this must read on his face, because Frank presses on. "There wasn't a part of you that was hoping to kill Price."

Jamie shakes his head. "God, Dad. Of course there was. _Of course_ I was hoping I'd get out of the car and find that bastard dead. He killed his girlfriend, and he was going to kill my partner, and – she's my _partner_. I'm supposed to have her back. I can't screw that up again."

Frank is sobered by the allusion to Vinny. Jamie's not sure that he's convinced, but something makes him pull back, and Jamie's grateful. "You're sure that's all."

"I'm sure."

He almost believes himself.

* * *

I've exaggerated the severity of Jamie's actions in the car chase scene for my own purposes. But my knowledge of police work begins and ends with Blue Bloods, so there may be procedural mistakes.

Thanks for reading! The second half should be out sometime this weekend. Feedback is welcomed, as always!


	2. Chapter 2

The morning brings with it pouring rain and thunderclouds, and that's Jamie's excuse for driving slower than usual on the way to the hospital. Truthfully, it's probably about ten percent due to the weather and ninety percent not knowing what he's going to say when he gets there. When he'd left last night at the close of visiting hours, she'd been groggy, and he'd deliberately steered clear of talking about the events of the day. Today, though, with a night's sleep under her belt and some time to process, he's worried. Will she be traumatized? She's resilient, of course, but yesterday was pretty freaking traumatic. Will she want to make some great declaration of feelings because of her near-death experience? That wouldn't totally be out of the realm of possibility for Eddie, and he's afraid if she does he'll shut it down harder than he intends.

He's most worried that she'll remember everything, or have pieced it together from the detectives' questions, and that she'll agree with his father and Danny. Not so much about the inappropriate-feelings part but about the fact that maybe he did make the situation more dangerous. He can deal with the other possibilities, but he doesn't know what he'll do now if she's pissed at him, especially given that he's just effectively alienated all his adult family members but Linda.

He's still hazy as he pays for parking and walks up to her room, opting for the stairs as if to prolong the inevitable. She's supposed to be discharged at ten, and it's only nine-thirty, so he's dreading the minutes of unplanned time stretching before him. They've dealt with a lot, but this is new.

She's awake and sitting up in bed when he gets there, flipping through channels aimlessly. He drinks in the sight of her for a moment – alive, free of her duct-tape restraints and relatively unharmed – before rapping on the doorframe. She jumps a little when he does and he winces, but she covers it with a smile. "Hey."

"Hey, partner." He's leaning awkwardly against the wall, and she beckons to a chair beside the bed.

"You can come in, you know."

He does. When he gets closer to her, he can see that she's pale and there's faint bruising on her wrists from the tape, and he hates it. That rage from yesterday bubbles up unexpectedly again. He'd told his father he wished Price had been killed in the collision, but it was more than that. Truthfully, when he'd pulled his gun from his belt and approached the car, he'd wanted to shoot the guy. Just end it right there. He'd never felt that with a perp before, with the possible exception of Malevsky back in the day – he'd felt incomprehensible rage, of course, with the guy that shot Vinny, with Jake Singer, even, but not like yesterday.

Eddie, of course, recognizes this in his pained silence. Sometimes he's not sure whether their ability to read one another is a blessing or a curse. She turns down the volume on the TV until it's a low drone in the background, but doesn't speak, just looks at him and waits.

Obviously he can't assume that she'll be the first to defuse the awkwardness in the room. It's an unfair expectation today. He forces a smile. "How'd you sleep?"

It's a stupid question and he knows it. She snorts. "I've had better nights."

They're silent again for a minute. Jamie shakes his head. "I'm sorry."

 _That wasn't the plan._

Her brow wrinkles. "Sorry for what?"

He shrugs helplessly. "Sorry that happened. Sorry I got you into that mess in the first place."

"Jamie, you _helped_ someone. It's the job. Don't apologize for that." She sounds borderline angry, which he supposes is fair for making her nurse his wounded feelings in the wake of her own abduction.

He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly and looks down. "Sorry."

Finally, she chuckles. "You're hopeless."

"He laughs and shakes his head. He'd spent the night worrying that she'd be different somehow – broken down or angry, not willing or able to look at him – and he doesn't know what to do now that she's the same. She's hurt, of course, and she'll need time and space to get past this, but she's still fundamentally Eddie, and for some reason he wasn't prepared for that. Impulsively, he squeezes her hand where it rests on the edge of the bed.

She turns her hand over and laces their fingers together before she speaks, gaze fixed on the doorway. "It almost doesn't feel real." She looks over at him. "You know?"

He knows. They just dodged the world's most massive bullet and lived to tell of it, and it all went down in less than half an hour. It's surreal. "I know."

She sighs. "Except that it does."

"Yeah." Her fingers tighten around his hand, and they're silent for a minute.

He feels her shift in the bed and turns to look at her inquisitively. She looks troubled. "You okay?"

"I almost died yesterday."

He squeezes her hand involuntarily. "Yeah. But you didn't."

"I didn't." She pauses. "Jamie, why are we still doing this?"

 _Shit_. He swallows hard. "Doing what?"/

"Pretending."

He's poised to keep playing dumb, to say _pretending what?_ , but he realizes in time that that would be the most obnoxious thing he could do right now. He sighs. "I don't know."

"She lets out a humorless laugh. "If you don't know, then why do you keep doing it?"

His eyes are pleading. "Eddie, we can't."

When she meets his eyes, he can see tears in hers, and he curses himself for putting them there. "We don't have all the time in the world, you know."

"I know."

"Then what?" She's fighting to keep her voice steady. "Don't tell me you changed your mind."

"God, no." It's the most honest thing he's said to her in a while. He sighs and puts his other hand around hers. "Eddie, we can't stop riding together."

She furrows her brow. "What?"

He looks down at their hands. "You almost died yesterday. I almost lost you."

"I'm still here."

"Yeah, you're still here, because you were talking to me. And I talked to Danny, and we got to you in time. But what if I hadn't called you right then? What if it had been some other partner and they didn't notice you were late, or they didn't call you? What if – "

She's shaking her head. " _Stop_."  
He's gone too far. She's gone paler since he started talking, and he can tell she's fighting the tears. "I'm sorry."

She sighs. "It's okay."

"Look, my point is – "

"I get it."

He wasn't expecting that. "You do?"

She nods. "I do. You think you're the only one who can keep me safe on the job, and I get it. You've lost a lot of people. But Jamie, the feelings are there, whether we're acting on them or not. And don't you think that might come back to bite us someday?"

 _Like it almost did yesterday_ , he's thinking, but he doesn't mention it. He shrugs helplessly. "I don't know."

They're interrupted by a knock on the partially open door. Their heads turn in unison to see a short redheaded woman in scrubs standing in the doorway, holding a clipboard. "Officer Janko? I have your discharge paperwork here. I'll just need you to fill this out and sign and we can get you on your way." They don't move for a moment, and she hesitates. "Am I interrupting something?"

Jamie shakes his head and releases Eddie's hand, standing up and grabbing the clipboard to pass it to her. "No, you're fine."

Eddie shakes her head imperceptibly before taking the clipboard from his hand and setting to work.

Watching her, Jamie regrets the pain he's causing. Really. But he also knows that, at least for now, they're better off partners.


End file.
